


Touchdown

by Cloudy_Serendipity



Category: The Martian (2015)
Genre: F/M, Ice Cream, Kinda, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Post-Mission, Reader Insert, Rough Sex, Sebastian Stan Characters - Freeform, Sex, Smut, coming home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22836088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudy_Serendipity/pseuds/Cloudy_Serendipity
Summary: Nine months ago your husband, Chris Beck, embarked on a mission to the ISS.  Now he's home and you both have needs far more urgent than catching up over a juicy steak.
Relationships: Chris Beck/Reader, Chris Beck/You
Kudos: 16
Collections: Cloudy's Horniest Book Club Drunk Drabbles & Challenges





	Touchdown

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [@littledarlinhavefaithinme](https://tmblr.co/mxAwa-xdcVt9VPPNxo5yRMw) and [@the-ss-horniest-book-club](https://tmblr.co/mXmlJDpvfv2gXkq-VWZylFw) for the wonderful prompt. I’ve never written Chris Beck before but Loved The Martian, and I also thought I’d throw in a little experience of my own from when I visited NASA at Houston ;) I’m sorry this is way way longer than I thought I was going to write, please forgive me. I hope you enjoy anyway.
> 
> Warnings: smut, descriptions of sex, tiny tiny bit of angst in the form of missing your loved one, and also a mention of horrific cardboard ice cream.

Touchdown. Nerves jangling. Heart fluttering. Biting your nails, watching the news. You had been counting the hours since the Space X return flight brought Chris Beck back to terra firma. 

Nine months. The training mission aboard the ISS that was supposed to prepare the team for the Ares III mission to Mars had been an unequivocal success, but it had been torture for you. Months of loneliness. Months of waring down batteries. Months of Pornhub.

You didn’t want to think about what that meant for the future. _Your future_. You both knew what him working for NASA entailed; missions that could last months, even years, or the possibility of no return at all. But it was his passion. His dream. You taught the physics but he _lived it_. Up there, with nothing between him and the cosmos but the flimsy walls of a space station and the shade of the Earth.

The black escalade that pulled up out front jolted you from your daze. Heart racing, palms clammy, you straightened your skirt and waited for his feet to hit the sidewalk. The fight against appearing too eager vs appearing apathetic was lost when you laid eyes on his gaunt face; months up there spent wasting away, months away from you.

You tore open the door and ran until you felt his arms around you, still strong despite the low gravity and all the more urgent because of the distance.

“God, I missed you.” He buried his face in your hair and breathed deep, lifting you up and squeezing you so tight you thought your ribs would pop, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You missed him too, _so damn much_.

“You missed my cooking.” You teased as you encouraged him to put you down. “And a real shower, I bet.” Chris pinched your waist and chased you indoors, both of you giggling without so much as a glance at the escalade. 

No sooner had you closed the door behind him and started on a path to the kitchen to make him something proper to eat, then he spun you around and backed you up against the counter.

“You can feed me later,” he pressed himself against you, “I need something other than food, and I’ve waited long enough.”

You sighed as he smoothed his cheek against yours, trailing his nose over the delicate skin below your ear. His long, deep inhale sent a tingle down your spine but when his lips met your skin it was electric. A melting feeling that seeped down your spine and settled between your hips, warm and wanton, and wholly made of desire.

Chris tugged your hair free of its clips and ran his fingers through it, revelling in the feel like a man who had never felt silk, watching you like you were the first flakes of snow ever seen in a desert.

You slid your hands up his fresh-from-the-packet NASA jacket and finger the zipper. He was too occupied with the way the skin of your clavicles felt under his lips to pay much attention to what your hands were doing until his jacket was open and you’d tugged the pristine white tee from the waistband of his chinos. Your hands were chilly, like always, and he gasped a little as he sucked on your earlobe. He hadn’t kissed you yet but you were fine to wait, he was familiarising himself with the feel of you, your scent and afterwards, your taste. This man made you melt, even after months apart, maybe especially because of that.

Chris slid his hands up your legs, dragging your skirt up until he reached the top of your stockings. His groan made you bite your lip.

“What else are you hiding under there?” He grinned cheekily, fingering one of the straps of your lacy red suspenders. “It’s my duty to launch a thorough investigation.”

Jesus you missed this man. His goofy playfulness, his sweet and loving nature, and his brilliant mind. You also missed the feel his skin against yours, his hands roaming your body like undiscovered territory, hot lips teasing, and the feel of him between your legs, hard and heavy and holy shit what the hell was he doing right then? He tore open your blouse, exposing a red lace balconette bra, nipping the skin of your chest impishly.

Christ had spread your legs with his thigh, pressing the lean muscle against your lace-clad heat. His breath was as tattered as your blouse, uneven and rough as he dragged open-mouthed kisses over every inch of your exposed skin. Urgency ramping up until he was licking and gorging himself on your scent, rubbing himself against you as if to wear the very essence of you.

“Baby…” You sighed and he hushed you, nibbling on your lower lip without giving you the kiss that you wanted from him, the intimacy, the care.

Chris fumbled with his belt and zipper as his open mouth lay against yours and despite you tempting him with needy licks and kisses of your own, he remained solely focused on one thing; burying his face between your thighs as deep as possible. His cock could wait until later.

Depositing you on the countertop, he wrenched your red lace gusset aside and plunged his tongue into you with reckless abandon, licking and sucking and smearing your juices across his cheeks and chin. The moans and slurping noises he made was enough to push you to the edge.

Your first orgasm made your thighs quake but he wasn’t finished with you just yet. Chris pushed and pushed you higher, further, faster until you were begging for him to stop, oversensitivity creating the sharpest pain that could still be called pleasure. Then and only then did he give you his fingers.

“Chris, please!” You begged, voice wavering as he built yet another climax for you. He clearly hadn’t lost his ability to play you like an instrument during his stay on the ISS. “I want you.”

He was always great with his hands, that’s why he was a surgeon. Those deft fingers that built you up and laid you to waste on a pedestal of pure pleasure, and then tore you down until you wallowed on the shores of desperation, needing more. More emotion, more pleasure, more love, more _him_. He’d always give you more.

“You ready for me, huh, baby girl?” He stood between your legs with his cock in hand, rubbing the tip through the wet heat of your gash.

No answer was needed. You reached for him and he drove himself home with a magnificent sigh. You’d waited so long for him to come home, and now that he was home, you wanted to feel every inch of him, whichever way he needed to give it to you.

His pace was punishing and he clung to you like rocks in the treacherous waters of a storm. Hot breath against your skin, gasping moans in your ear as he fucked you, his belt buckle smacking off the counter with each thrust. Chris was on another mission now, not one that would take him away from you but one that would bring him home, bring him closer to you, and enfold him in your very essence.

The relief and euphoria on his face as he began to orgasm was heady, dragging you with him, both throbbing out your own beat as you came. And in the fading but breathless afterglow, he rested his forehead against yours and pulled you closer. His kiss was needy but not desperate as he stroked your hair and cradled you to him while he softened inside you.

“You know what I fancy right now?” He murmured with a wistful smile.

“Nice juicy steak?” You chuckled. That’s was what you were going to cook for his touchdown dinner.

“Close, but no cigar,” he ran his fingers through your hair as he memorised the way your flushed skin looked.

You could only imagine how horrible NASA food rations were, and drinking water that was recycled from piss and sweat, amongst other things. You shuddered.

“Ice cream,” he smiled, still tracing your features with his gaze, “any kind of ice cream that’s not freeze dried.”

His grimace made you laugh enough to push him free of you. “Well!” You say as if scandalised. “Let it be my mission to make you forget all about cardboard ice cream.”

“Sounds promising.” He smirked as you grabbed a carton of strawberry cheesecake Haagen Daz from the ice box, and a spoon. “Desert before dinner?”

You winked as you tugged him towards the bedroom, fully intent on being the dish from which he ate his touchdown dessert.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) you guys give me life! Feel free to let me know what you think with comments or kudos. You have no idea how happy I am to hear from you <3


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